1. art and entertainment
2. visual art and design
3. painting

STEVE POWERS - STUDIO GANGSTER
GINGKO PRESS
STUDIO GANGSTER
published on the occasion of
STEVE POWERS: THE MAGIC WORD
Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts
October 20, 2007–January 27, 2008
Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts
118 North Broad Street
Philadelphia, PA 19102
OPENING IMAGE
For my family, thanks for the baggage, and PAFA graduate Don Martin.
Steve Powers: The Magic Word
by Alex Baker
Steve Powers is a pop artist in reverse. Instead of
using the current modes of expression associated
with the advertising industry, he draws from an
earlier era of words and images—the bygone
idiom of the handpainted sign. Powers strives
for authenticity in reviving this artisanʼ’s pursuit,
employing the richly vibrant, albeit highly toxic,
One Shot sign painterʼ’s enamel in his artistic
endeavors. The feel of Powersʼ’ painting is
simultaneously “now” and “then”—a clever
balance of traditional graphic styles and methods
of application with a narrative sensitivity that
is decidedly of the moment. It is no surprise that
Powers has dubbed his Pennsylvania Academy
of the Fine Arts exhibition—his first solo museum
show—The Magic Word. When I was first
introduced to Powers nearly ten years ago, I was
struck by his dexterous and witty verbal skill, a
kind of hybrid poetry that blends the locution of
hip-hop bravado with a tough-talking sensibility of
a 1940s film noir character. This idiolect is total and
dynamic: it not only defines his speech and writing,
but it is deployed along with visual elements in
his painting.
Powers embrace of the word undoubtedly comes
out of his graffiti background where words—names,
really—are front and center. In the mid to late-1990s,
after moving to New York from his hometown of
Philadelphia, Powers, known as ESPO in the graffiti
world, embarked on his last largely illicit sweep—
the Exterior Surface Painting Outreach (ESPO)
project in which Powers “improved” paint-peeled
rolldown shop security gates with his ESPO moniker
throughout greater New York. Evoking advertising
as well as the benevolence of community art
programs, Powers saturated the public sphere with
his tag. Powers called this “building the brand.”
Powerʼ’s self-assured legitimacy and his articulation
of graffiti as a gentrification tool were soon parlayed
into museum and gallery projects, and even official
public art.
Powers major art world debut came in 2000 at the
Institute of Contemporary Art (ICA), Philadelphia in
the exhibition Indelible Market, which also included
Todd James (REAS) and Barry McGee (TWIST).
The central element of the show was a bodega,
or urban cornerstore, the brainchild of Powers
and James, and the site where Powers signature
enamel on aluminum text/image painting style
was basically forged. It should be noted, however,
that the conceptual underpinnings of Powersʼ’
handpainted sign aesthetic was first tested on actual
derelict storefronts and old shop signs, transforming
urban abjection into ESPO-brand markets, in the
several years preceding the ICA exhibition. A
cacophony of ESPO, REAS, and assorted found
signs were anchored to the roof of the bodega and
the adjacent gallery walls, mimicking the visual
noise of the cheap urban-retail experience. Powers
hilarious phraseology was underscored in signs
like “ESPORAMA/Sensibly Slum;” “Fast Nickʼ’s
Dust Spot/A Philly institution since Friday;” and an
outdoor billboard installed in a West Philadelphia
neighborhood near ICA proclaiming “Open to get
you open/ESPO creative outlet/Where stupidity is
always in stock.” Inside the bodega, Powers and
James designed mock-consumer items, identified
by their trademark tags and characters, and/
or invented product titles that referred to the
feel-good states of being experienced when one
“purchases” their brands (products included cans
of “Street Cred,” “Dignity,” “Sarcasm,” “Guilt,”
and “Delusion,” among several others; all the
labels were professionally designed and printed,
seamlessly blurring the distinction between real and
fictional brands). The bodega is a fitting metaphor
for the graffiti writer: what is perceived as ugly,
underground, and an affront to the quality of life,
continues to exist alongside the gentrified. Later,
at Deitch Projects, the Venice Biennale and several
other venues, Indelible Market morphed into Street
Market, in which overturned trucks, a taxi dispatch
stand, and a liquor store, among other elements,
joined the bodega in a post-apocalyptic vision of a
world gone marketing mad according to the likes of
TWIST, ESPO, and REAS.
In around 2002, Powers began experimenting with
storyboard painting—employing individual panels
as sequential segments relating a narrative, much
in the fashion of a comic strip. These works tell
stories of the bullied, shoplifters, and addictionaddled superheroes—the misfits of urban lore that
Powers identifies with. While originally viewed in
galleries or as outdoor installations (Weylon Saul,
Powers exegesis on bully vs. underdog, was first
seen in the 2002 Liverpool Biennial, installed on
the façade of a building), Powers capitalized on the
printed possibilities of these paintings as stories on
the page, and published them as a series of graphic
vignettes in a book entitled First & Fifteenth: Pop Art
Short Stories.
In 2003, Powers made good on his Exterior Surface
Painting Outreach moniker with the Coney Island
project, Dreamland Artist Club, bringing the public
art organization, Creative Time, on as co-producer.
Working with low-income amusement vendors
along the Coney Island boardwalk, Powers and
a number of artists such as Dana Schutz, Ellen
Harvey, Dearraindrop, Nicole Eisenmann, Adam
Cvijanovic, the Gents of Desire, Swoon, Gary Panter,
and Os Gemeos, among many others, created new
signage and identities for businesses who could not
otherwise afford major facelifts.* In summer 2005,
Powers opened the Dreamland Artist Clubhouse,
in which customers can buy ready-made signs, but
most importantly, serves as a residency program
for artists interested in the tradition of handpainted
advertising. The Clubhouse also offers artworks as
prizes at selected amusement stands, rather than
the usual stuffed animal or goldfish in a plastic bag.
Powers refers to painting the cars of the Cyclone in
2004 as a highpoint of his artistic career. The iconic
wooden rollercoaster, which has been in operation
for eighty years, holds a special place in New
Yorkʼ’s collective imagination. Since his involvement
in Coney Island, he has also painted new graphic
identities for the Eldorado Arcade, bumper car
rides, and several food concessions.
Powers has always been fascinated by the
intersection of art and commerce, citing the
masterful marketing of 19th century entertainment
entrepreneur P.T. Barnum as exemplifying the
blurring of advertising and the spectacular
experience. Coney Island harkens back to the preDisney days where spectacle was created through
competing typography and garish images—the
domain of signpainters, the first “imagineers” (to
borrow a phrase from Disney). Coney Island retains
an out of time, gritty authenticity of carnies, barkers,
and snake handlers, as well as amusement owners
who were at first wary of the overtures by Powers
and fellow artists offering to paint signs for free.
But Powers experience in the world of graffiti and
his brushes with the law enabled him to deal quite
well with individuals suspicious of his motives and
he was eventually able to convince vendors that
nothing was expected in return for his services.
In November 2006, a developer who is proposing
a billion dollar year-round entertainment and
amusement district bought the Astroland amusement
park, home to 35 rides, and continues to acquire
land underneath and around the boardwalk.
This may mark the death of the rough-around-the
edges spirit that has long characterized Coney
Island. In a scenario that has been repeated
in New York several times in the past, art and
artists unknowingly pave the way for larger scale
gentrification. SoHo in the 1970s was where artists
found cheap industrial lofts for rent, followed by art
gallery tenants in the 1980s, and then retail chains
in the 1990s—forcing artists and galleries to move
elsewhere. Before being acquired and developed
by Disney in 1997, peep shows and pornographic
movie theaters along 42nd Street near Times Square
(vacated by the stateʼ’s right of eminent domain
during the real estate recession in the early 1990s)
served as temporary public art installations and
interim artistic outposts courtesy of Creative Time,
the same public art organization that spearheaded
the Coney Island Dreamland Artist Club. The 42nd
Street art project drew so much favorable attention
from both a general and contemporary art audience
that major corporate interests took notice. Is it ironic
that a former graffiti writer working in Coney Island
might have enticed developers to notice the real
estate potential of an increasingly attractive, yet still
somewhat blighted, neighborhood? Or, is this just
one more instance of the endless contradictions of
capitalism?
Powers most recent body of work both swaggers
and self-deprecates and is deeply confessional.
But who is doing the confessing? Are these
autobiographical missives from the frontlines of
Powersʼ’ despair and beaten- down outlook? Or are
these emotional icons the sum total of omniscient,
universal angst that permeates all strivers trying to
move forward in a perpetually self-absorbed New
York—a cognitive map of a particularly virulent
strain of social Darwinism? Powers best leaves these
questions unanswered and that is why his text/
image equations hit home so hard. At times sharing
an ironic kinship with self-help literature, as well as
the mass appeal of self-identification conveyed in
the best pop songs, Powers addresses addiction
(“My hobbies include quitting stuff,” accompanying
images of pills, a bottle of booze, and a burning
cigarette in a composition reminiscent of an old
grocery store sign complete with spray paint fade);
the cut-throat art world of unreturned phone calls,
flash-in-the-pan ideas, and disposable personalities
(“You have one new message” painted on an arm
with an upturned middle finger; “Thereʼ’s nothing
more sad than a good idea gone bad” alongside
two lightbulbs fighting each other; or, for example,
the painted phrase “Hipster you have had your
moment”); the trials and tribulations of the creative
act itself (“Pen in my hand,” “Lump in my throat,”
“Heart on my sleeve,” “Block in my head” painted
on four sides of a rotating aluminum sign cube
straight out of old school retail); tense relationships
(a matchbook denoted as “His” juxtaposed with
a “Hers” gasoline can); cynicism (“Bitter, jealous,
resentful—thanks for asking”); and the expectations
and fears of what the new day might bring
(“Tomorrow—youʼ’re my only hope” and “Mister
Monday—always early”).
Powers ruminations on aspirations for success,
invention and reinvention, and the attendant
tortures that come with the turf will soon be
leveraged for social good—in marginalized youth
communities in Dublin and Belfast, in southern
and northern Ireland, respectively, the result of a
Fulbright fellowship he recently received. Working
with troubled youths, Powers will paint murals that
he hopes will, at the very least, provide a positive
role model for disenfranchised kids to make things
happen for themselves. As a teenager raised on
the streets of Philadelphia, a self-made artist with
exhibitions in prestigious galleries and museums,
corporate clients, and the author of two published
books, Powers ability to transform street cred into
an artistic livelihood seems particularly relevant
and inspirational to young Irish hoodlums. Indeed,
his witty insights on the trials of selfhood smacks
of a deep Irishness that is confirmed by the name
“Powers”—just like the whiskey.
*Powers credits Dick Zigun, a graduate of Yale
Universityʼ’s theater department, as an early visionary
in Coney Islandsʼ’ aesthetic revival. In 1980, Zigun
established a non-profit organization to produce
plays about the history of Coney Island, eventually
reviving the 10-in-1 sideshow with its legions of freaks,
re-energizing the boardwalk with this nearly forgotten
populist theatrical form. His efforts served as a
template for what Powers initiated years later.
Alex Baker is Curator of Contemporary Art at the
Pennsylvania Academy of the Fine Arts, Philadelphia,
where he has organized projects with artists including
Robert Ryman, Phil Frost, Marcel Dzama, Monique
van Genderen, and Adam Cvijanovic, among others.
He recently curated Ellen Harvey: Mirror, a major
site-specific installation by the artist that explored
the Victorian Gothic architecture and teaching
practices of the Pennsylvania Academy. A former
associate curator at the Institute of Contemporary Art,
Philadelphia, Baker curated Indelible Market: Barry
McGee, Stephen Powers, and Todd James and East
Meets West: “Folk” and Fantasy from the Coasts,
among other exhibitions. He has a Ph.D. in visual
anthropology from Temple University.
The world, as I see it, is love, hate, confusion, joy, anger, sadness, jealousy,
revelation, destruction, self-destruction, eating, sleeping, working, learning,
earning, playing, getting over, getting caught up, spending, screwing, fighting,
killing, birthing, learning, teaching, growing, dying, understanding, being
confused, longing, laughing, crying, bragging, peeing, shitting, farting,
cursing, talking, talking, talking, yelling, fighting, seeing, and listening. Iʼ’m sure I
missed something(s), and its not in order of importance (except for the first),
or in the order we do it (except for the last two). This is what I concern myself
with when I work.
I paint from life the best I can. No filter, no question, I just get it down on the
surface as fast and as clear as possible. Sometimes its wrong, but thatʼ’s a large
part of the human experience. Iʼ’m just feeling my way through life and recording
the feelings visually. I strive for a synthesis of word and image that creates emotional
revelation. The downside to making work about feelings is that most people are as
shallow as a kiddie pool. The upside is when somebody asks “Whatʼ’s so important
about art?” I get to tell them “If you have no empathy, I can sell you some at a
reasonable price.”
We are at a critical point in human relations that finds us on a very precarious
precipice. Iʼ’m sure weʼ’re not doing enough to understand each other and less
to understand ourselves. My paintings work at both tasks. They are the record of
my efforts to glean some understanding of who these people are that have a good
thing going and do everything they can to sabotage it. The result are maps of the
emotions that guide us toward divinity and doom. For all the cynicism that is on
display jn my paintings, there is an equal amount of faith and love. I believe the
work depicts both sides of humanity; Weʼ’re capable of greatness but we usually
just screw things up.
When you look at these paintings, there will be some things you love and hate,
some things you knew all along and some things you donʼ’t understand. If thatʼ’s
the case, welcome to my world. Like the radio said to the signal, thanks for
coming through.
Steve Powers
Manhattan
August 14, 2007
Poster for the film Dedication. Ultimately, the film company went
with a poster that showed off Mandy Moore (good call).
The brain hates the heart and loves the mouth.
The heart hates the brain and loves the mouth.
The mouth hates and loves them both.
This is everybody's story.
Jeffrey Deitch:
“Whats Firmy?”
Me:
“Its Firme, and its Chicano slang for hot.”
Graffiti Lifetime Acheivement Award
Everything you did got painted over,
nobody remembers you (not even the
kid thats writing your name now), no
royalties are coming in on that style
you created, and all you got left of
the years you wrote is your flicks
and your criminal record. Hopefully,
youʼ’re like me and its enough.
Mr Friday and Mr Sunday Morning.
Thereʼ’s nothing I like better than putting work in a nice spot.
A place of great honor where it will bless and be blessed in return.
A place where people will look upon it with respect.
How about your back? That would be perfect. You would look great in a
yellow slicker covered with the art of Americaʼ’s greatest post-street/skate
artist. It would be like putting a diamond in a sunbeam.
My name is Steve Powers, and I am that diamond and you,
________________________________ are that sunbeam.
I donʼ’t want money, I just want the time it takes to meet you and discuss
design options for the raincoat, and a photograph of you wearing the
finished project. For me, itʼ’s a really upscale public art project. For you,
itʼ’s an expensive piece of artwork you can wear when you go out to get
the paper.
Call me now, I am ready to serve you.
Steve Powers
917.541.0604
Once in a while I paint something that
gets immediate and frequent response and
becomes a meme. The Holler Back Pigeon,
The Broken Bad Idea Light Bulb, and You
Have One New Message all started on a
napkin in front of me and have gone on
to be imitated and replicated in the world
outside of my studio (In all fairness I stole
Ass, Gas Or Cash). Whatʼ’s communication
without reception? I donʼ’t know.
Another satisfied customer.
The banner above the can manʼ’s head should read STRIVER NOT AN
85ER. Just so you know. Tommorrow, I learn to spell, I hope.
Cease is a bottle of booze and Desist
is a 2mg Xanax, which Chief Running
Mouth has nibbled off a piece. It wont
slow him down, it just makes him harder
to understand.
Youʼ’ve been kicked out of the Garden of Eden, what else are you
going to do? I suggest Takahachi on Duane Street.
This page: Thats the Sword of Damocles. I always took it
to mean that we are always a second away from our fate,
but the original tale is about being careful about wanting
to be in another personʼ’s position, and the precarious
nature of power. In any case, be easy.
Opposite page: Wise in the foxhole, “War is hell, have
refreshments.”
FYI: Thatʼ’s a shit talking shit.
I love my wife, weʼ’ve been together for almost 20 years. I fell
in love with an amazing woman who was down for me and
thatʼ’s that. I canʼ’t understand the compulsion to mess up a
good thing, but its rampant in the world. Just as rampant is the
compulsion to link up with someone thatʼ’s bad for your health
and stay faithful to them. Whatʼ’s wrong with you people?
Painted on top of the Vice store on Sunset Boulevard in
LA. It lasted a couple days before the owner painted it
over. Feelings, apparrently, were hurt.
Philly rowhome, a little lysergic and lethargic. Those are bills, not Netflix envelopes.
“I think the best of you, even your worst will do, even when you do more than you should, Glad
we made it happen when we woke up from the trance. Iʼ’m with you. The easy world, Iʼ’m thinking
of, I take it all, I want to be, come with me. Shake it girl, youʼ’re not losing anything but your fresh
start, you can come to Hunting Park without getting married to the wind, the rain, and the dark.”
Will My Lord Be Gardening, Lilys. Lyrics Kurt Heasley.
Opposite page: If youʼ’re lucky you get to
solve a new problem every day. If youʼ’re
unlucky, you get stuck trying to solve the
same one again and again.
This page: Sleep and Repeat. Cigarettes are
a good metaphor for people. Get ʻ‘em going
and they go till theyʼ’re gone.
The Stepping Razor, even though he walks through the
valley of death and he fears no man because hes the
baddest motherfucker in the valley, is thinking, “maybe
Iʼ’ll start a family, that would be nice”
Thats a Walther PPK. If you see a skull on the horizon
of your day, youʼ’ll be glad to have one of these. Or
does being strapped bring trouble? Thats two too many
questions.
Justin Green painted these.
He invented a few things that other
people are eating off of, least of all
“being an artist that paints signs”
I woke up after a full blackout and
found myself in no pain, still in possession of my wallet and keys, and
my girl friend wasnʼ’t upset with
me. VICTORY!
Hank Williams has the best face. it says, “Sure I might
shoot myself with morphine and B12 before heading to
a gig, but I know Iʼ’m one of Godʼ’s children”.
Previous spread, left: Tommorrowʼ’s bad too. Check back
Nevurary 32nd. I might be less busy then.
Previous spread, right: You can flip this around depending on
the status of the relationship.
This page: Thats Bez from the Happy Mondays with the
maracas. Careful where you spend your holidays, you may
end up retiring there.
Failure stars golfer Phil Mickelson. He blew the 2006 US Open
with a few disasterous shots, of which he said “I still am in shock
that I did that. I just canʼ’t believe I did that. Iʼ’m such an idiot”.
He showed a lot of grace in the loss, so I made a better version
of this with Mr. Mickelson and the words Coping Skills Donʼ’t Fail
Me Now.
Seriously, Iʼ’m waiting by the phone.
Itʼ’s never time when the bottle is half empty.
You know the kind of people that burn themselves out? Theyʼ’ll tell you
that itʼ’s not their fault they got matches for hands, and they were born
to sulfer. That strikes me as pre-phosporous.
I think the signal icon is supposed to be a telephone
pole, which makes no sense for a wireless network.
I was arguing with Kunle once and he shut me down
saying, “Iʼ’m not having this conversation”; Once
again reminding me that just because we have all
these ways of communicating doesnʼ’t mean weʼ’re
going to use them.
Previous spread: The third of the trio says
THANKS FOR NOT INVOLVING ME.
This spread: True Story. The letters are painted
by hand and screened onto plastic. When you
get enough letters, you can see variations in form
between different manufactuers. From 20 feet
away they all look the same.
Bashed out on illustration board. Terrible.
If I practice everyday, in 10 more years
Iʼ’ll be merely awful.
Opposite page: Check Writers are great. Thats a Phil
Leeds term. I gotta call that guy.
This page: When I would ask mom for money, sheʼ’d
grab her purse and say “Lemme consult the financial
oracle”. The only reason I asked her is because I
checked the purse first and knew she had some cash.
Ass Gas Or Cash Limo. The ego machine full of
gas makes perfect sense. What kind of an asshole
is rolling in a limo anyway? If youʼ’re not at a prom
or just married, youʼ’re a needy shithead.
I showed Scott a bunch of sketches of the male character,
he hated all of them as none really met his demand that it
should look like “The South Bronx meets the West Village”.
Finally I said, “look around, who should it look like?”
He pointed out a guy that worked in his arcade. Problem
solved haha.
Coney Island Sign Mechanics: Valentino,
Justin Green, Phyn and Valentino, and
The Master: Henry Wallace.
The sign shop - 1206 Surf. Designed by Matt
Wright, with excellent lettering by the same.
The Cyclone is 80 years old. The cars are
original, except for the padding and the
safety bars they added to make the ride a
little more comfortable and safe. Its a backbreaker as it is, but I still feel cheated out of
the ride Charles Lindburgh said was more
thrilling than flying solo across the Atlantic.
3AM is supposed to be burnt toast.
"You're spilling my personality" courtesy of
Richard Thomas in "Living Proof: The Hank Willams Jr. Story”.
Steven Morrissey was never called a loser. Not in New York.
Orville Wright with a 6 pack of Rolling Rock, on his way to Belaʼ’s Birthday Bar-B-Que Dayton, Ohio 19-something and five.
Agua is 25. He was born on drugs and grew up under pressure that has made him a
diamond. One day he asked me if I heard of Yummy Sandifer. I soon found out that he
was an 11 year old Chicago youth that killed a 14 year-old girl and after the resulting
press and police pressure, was murdered by fellow gang members in August, 1994.
Apparently, Aguaʼ’s wifey had clippings of the case all over her wall growing up. Itʼ’s
a stretch to say that Haelinn found Yummy in Agua, but I painted this as if that was
the case. She is the Firewall. Heʼ’s capable of extraordinary feats like fatherhood and
dumb fumbles like felonies. Can he resist compulsion to realize his potential? The Vegas
line is 10-1 againist, but all the safe bets are cornballs.
Index
p.6 Roaming (Detail)
p.40 Tommorow Youʼ’re My Only Hope (Detail)
p. 73-75 Hell Raiser (Detail)
p.108 Dedication (Detail)
p.11 Dedication, 2007. Enamel on aluminum, 40” x 26”
p.41 Tommorow Youʼ’re My Only Hope, 2004. Enamel on aluminum, 40” x 25”
p.76 Under The Gun, 2006. Enamel on aluminum 24” x 24”
p.109 Roaming, (Detail) 2007. Enamel on aluminum, 48” x 48”
p.12 Feelings Free For All, 2004. Vinyl Awnings, lights 12ʼ’ x 16ʼ’
Installed at Deitch Projects, 76 Grand St. Photo: Tom Powell
p.42-43 Tommorow Youʼ’re My Only Hope (Detail)
p.77 Its Not You Its Me, 2007. Enamel on Aluminum, 48” x 48”
p.110 Agua Caliente (Detail)
p.44 Block, 2006. Spray paint and enamel on powder-coated steel cube,
12” x 12”
p.78 Happy Monday, 2006. Bulletin Enamel on Illustration Board. 22” x 30”
p.111 Agua Caliente, 2005. Enamel on powder-coated steel, 48” x 48”
p.79 Happy Monday (Detail)
p.112-113 Agua Caliente (Detail)
p.14 People To Do, Things To See, 2004.
Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 18” x 18”
p.15 Sketchbook, 2004
p.16 My List Of Demands, 2004. Enamel on aluminum, 25” x 40”
p.18 Remember, 2004. Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 24” x 48”
Graffiti Lifetime Achievement Award, 2004.
Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 24” x 24”
Baby, 2004. Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 24” x 24”
p.45 Co-Defendant, 2006. Enamel on aluminum, 48” x 48”
p.46 Seeking Rush, Finding Ruin, 2004. Enamel on aluminum, 25” x 40”
p.47/48/49 Seeking Rush, Finding Ruin (Detail)
p.50 Irreconcilable Differences (Detail)
p.51 Irreconcilable Differences, 2006. Enamel on aluminum, 20” x 36”
p.9 Baggage, 2004. Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 26” x 24”
p.52-53 Irreconcilable Differences (Detail)
p.20 Drifter, 2004. Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 20” x 24”
Bill, 2004. Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 24” x 32”
p.54 Love Letter, 2007. Enamel on aluminum, 12” x 12”
p.21 The Wedding Present, 2004. Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 30” x 48”
p.22 Meditation, 2004. Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 24” x 48”
p.23 Loveʼ’s M.O., 2004. Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 18” x 12”
p.24-25 Nothing More Sad, 2004
Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 24” x 48”
p.26-27 Saturday Night Sunday Morning, 2004
Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 24” x 48”
p.28 Thank You, 2004. Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 24”x 24”
p.55 Sketchbook, 2006
p.56-57 True Hollywood Story, 2002. 3938 w. Sunset Blvd, LA CA.
Enamel on painted steel, 36”x 60”
p.58-59 Front and back cover art of the Lilys Will My Lord Be Gardening 12”.
Free News Projects. Enamel on aluminum 24” x 24”
p.60 Our Puzzle Paradise, 2006. Enamel on powder coated steel, 24”x 24”
p.61 Sleep and Repeat, 2007. Enamel on aluminum 11.7”x 8.3”
p,62 Stepping Razor (Detail)
p.63 Stepping Razor, 2006. Enamel on aluminum, 24” x 24”
p.80 Higher Power (Detail)
p. 81 Higher Power, 2006. Enamel on aluminum 24” x 24”
p. 82-83 Higher Power (Detail)
p.84 No Place Like Misplaced, 2006. Enamel on aluminum 18” x 36”
p.85/86/87 No Place Like Misplaced (Detail)
p.88 Please, 2007. Enamel on aluminum 48” x 48”
p.89 Sorry, 2007. Enamel on aluminum 48” x 48”
P.90/91 True Story, 2005.
Road side signs and plexiglass letters, 25ʼ’ x 12ʼ’
p.92 Happy Hour, 2005. Spray paint and bulletin enamel on board, 15” x 24”
p.93 Blame Machine, Funny Car, 2005.
Spray paint and bulletin enamel on board, 12” x 15”
p.94 Money #1 (Detail)
p.95 Money #1, 2002. Enamel on aluminum, 24” x 48”
p.96/97 Ass Gas Or Cash Limo, 2005. Balloon, 5ʼ’ x 20ʼ’
p.64/65 Stepping Razor (Detail)
p.98 Eldorado Signs, 2003. 1220 Surf Ave, Coney Island.
Enamel on aluminum, 24” x 60” ea.
p.66 Hobbies, 2007. Acrylic and tempra on board, 12” x 12”
p.101 The Surf Avenue Outreach Sign Shop, 1206 Surf Ave. Coney Island
p.32/33 Partial inventory of imagery available for raincoats
p.67 2 Dollar Whore, 2007. Acrylic and tempra on board, 12” x 12”
p.102 You Had Your Moment (Detail)
p.36 Alzheimers, 2004. Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 24”x 30”
p.68 Convincing Rationale (Detail)
p.103 You Had Your Moment, 2004. Enamel on aluminum 48” x 48”
p.37 Sketchbook, 2006
p.69 Convincing Rationale, 2004. Enamel on aluminum, 25” x 40”
p.104-105 You Had Your Moment (Detail)
p.38 Sketchbook (Snowman), 2005
p.70-71 Convincing Rationale (Detail)
p.106 Roaming, 2007. Enamel on aluminum, 48” x 48”
p.39 Hotel Room Sketch (for Arkitip magazine), 2003
p.72 Hell Raiser, 2006. Enamel on aluminum, 24” x 24”
p.107 Roaming (Detail)
p.29 Producer, 2004. Enamel on Duraboard, plastic trim 24”x 24”
p. 30/31 ESPO Service. Cut adhesive-backed vinyl on raincoats.
Model: Ari Forman Photo: Kai Regan
Thank You Al Baker, Tony Smyrski, Maryanne and Malcolm, David Lopes,
Guess RFC, Wise RFC, Justin Green, Agua, Haelinn, Jeffrey Deitch, everybody
at Deitch Projects, Tim Walkewicz, Ned Vena, Ilya Lipkin, Coney Island, Coney
Island USA, Ari Forman, Matt Goias, Dan Murphy, Nick DiFalco, Diesel Gene,
Max Lawrence, Kurt Heasley, Bob Pollard, Mimi Gross, Rebecca and Laura,
Craig Costello amd Jen Dwin, Kunle, Dash, Kenji, Kent, Gary, Mike Tesi, Justin
Theroux, Eddie Bezazel, Quest Love, The Long Family, The Leeds Family, Monster Children Gallery, and most importantly, MUSIC.
All artwork by Steve Powers
Art Direction by Smyrski Creative
Ginkgo Press
5768 Paradise Drive, Suite J
Corte Madera, CA 94925
Telephone: 415.924.9615
Telefax: 415.924.9608
books@ginkgopress.com
www.gingkopress.com
Published in 2007 by Gingko Press
Printed in Hong Kong
ISBN:
www.firstandfifteenth.net